


coming out of my cage

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: One failed relationship leads Sansa Stark to move in with her family friend, Jon Snow. Unspoken feelings begin to grow, and soon enough they're in for more than they expected.





	1. coming out of my cage

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is the same as my previous oneshot, 'coming out of my cage (and i've been doing just fine)', so if you've already read that, then you can go straight to chapter two. Anyways, enjoy this story!

Sansa wipes tears from her eyes, hugging her arms across her chest. She carries her broken white heels in one hand. There’s a white marble fountain at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Red Keep Country Club. She tosses the heels in the water and continues in her bare feet. It should feel satisfying, but all she can comprehend is anger and pain.

There’s a bench on the sidewalk which is protected by several tall oaks. Instead of sitting on it, she sits beside it. Somehow, the ground is more comfortable.

Her dress, her  _beautiful_ dress, is torn down the side. She had been so proud when she put it on earlier. It’s a sleeveless, pale gold, knee length dress that spun beautifully when she danced. To make matters worse, it’s a jagged rip that she’s not sure she’ll be able to repair. Sansa hadn’t thought to bring a coat or a shawl either, and the cold November air bites her to the bone.

Inside the country club, she hears a new song begin. It’s Mr. Brightside. She buries her face in her hands and sobs. On top of everything, of  _course_ she’d be crying out on the sidewalk while her favorite song in the entire world played inside.

When she regains control of her tears, she pulls out her phone and dials the first name on her emergency contacts list. It rings twice before the line is picked up.

“Hey, Robb?”

_“Hey, Sansa, what’s up?”_

“Nothing, I just… can you come pick me up? I’m at the Red Keep Country Club for Joffrey’s birthday party-” Her voice breaks. She hopes he doesn’t hear how desperate she is.

 _“I’m so sorry, Sans, I’m at Margaery’s right now. I mean, if you can wait forty five minutes, then I can come get you,”_ he says.  _“Are you alright, though?”_

“I’m fine, don’t worry, just forget it,” she says, hanging up abruptly. Tonight, she has no patience for her brother’s well-intentioned bullshit. The next name on her emergency list is Jon Snow. With only a few seconds of hesitation, she presses the call symbol. It rings, and then goes to voicemail.

_“Hey, this is Jon, sorry I’m not here. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”_

“Jon, it’s Sansa. I’m at the Red Keep Country Club. I really need a ride. Please let me know if you can come. Thank you.”

She hangs up and sighs. It’s an hour’s drive back to her family’s house. If no one can pick her up, it’s going to be a very long walk home.

Her phone buzzes seconds later. She picks it up and reads five life saving words-  _I’ll be there in 10._

When his old pickup truck pulls up, Sansa doesn’t hesitate to slip inside. She slams the door and slumps into the passenger seat. The radio is tuned to a classical music station, and she recognizes Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture playing quietly with intermittent static.

“Sansa, what- Jesus Christ, are you okay?” His dark curls are in disarray, and he’s wearing his glasses instead of contacts.  _She woke him up to come get her._ The guilt is eating her alive.

“I’m alright,” she lies in a hoarse whisper, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Do you want me to call the police? I swear, if anyone hurt you-”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Sansa, I’m  _really_ worried about you right now,” he says. Concern is slathered across his handsome face.

“I wouldn’t let Joffrey fuck me in a country club bathroom, so he broke it off. Jon, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I really want to go,” she begs, and he immediately pulls away from the curb.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Not home,” she says, thinking of her family. Sansa doesn’t want to come through the front door with a ripped dress and mascara stained cheeks. Arya will want to fight someone, Bran will question her relentlessly, Rickon will start to cry on her behalf, and Uncle Benjen (bless his soul) will probably call the cops. “Anywhere but home.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he says, offering a smile that she can’t bring herself to return. Jon pulls over into the parking lot of a small diner. A large neon sign outside reads  _Castle Black Cafe._ The sign listing the hours shows her that it should be closed, but the door is unlocked and there’s a man in an apron standing inside, wiping down the counter. Thankfully, there are no other customers.

“Hey, Sam,” says Jon, “could we have a couple minutes here?”

“Oh, sure! Be my guest. The tables are all clean, and I can put on some music while you eat.” He looks at her and grins. “You must be Sansa! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hi,” she says, wondering exactly  _why_ Sam has been hearing about her. A light pink blush has settled across Jon’s cheeks. He picks a booth next to a window overlooking the road. Outside, the streetlight changes from red to green. A delivery truck drives down the boulevard with a deep baritone rumble.

“Can I get you two anything?” Sam asks.

“I don’t have my wallet,” mutters Sansa.

“It’s on the house,” says Sam. “Any friend of Jon’s is a friend of mine!”

“Let me get a Belgian waffle with blueberry topping and a slice of lemon meringue pie for Sansa. And two hot chocolates,” Jon says.

Sansa smiles faintly. She loves lemon meringue more than life itself. Sam waltzes away to the kitchen.

“Hey,” says Jon, “if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But if you do, if you  _ever_ do, I’m right here.” He reaches over and hesitantly wraps his fingers around hers.

Sam comes back with their food and hot chocolates. Sansa expects Jon to turn his attention to his waffles (which smell heavenly), but he just looks at her with sad brown eyes.

“I’m angry. I’m lonely. I’m sick and tired of people treating me like shit. Everything around me is falling apart. It feels like I’ll never be able to survive in this stupid word,” she says.

“You’re one of the best people I know, Sansa. You’ve gone through so much fucked up stuff. I know it’s hard with your parents gone. Just remember, you always have me. I’m never going to abandon you, I promise,” he says.

That small promise means more to her than he could ever know. A thought at the back of her mind begins to ring through her head.  _Maybe Jon Snow will be the start of something better._

“I can’t go home,” she whispers. He nods, tracing circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

“You can stay at my place for as long as you need to. I really don’t want you to feel lonely. There’s a spare room- I don’t have any extra sheets, but you can take my bed and I’ll go out to the shops tomorrow- and I know Ghost loves you,” he says sincerely.

Sansa wishes she could throw her arms around him and never let go. Suddenly, she realizes that soft music is playing through the diner. Fresh tears well up in her eyes.  _I’m coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine..._

“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong? God, I’m sorry,” Jon says quickly. She shakes her head, hiding her face.

“No, it’s not you. I just need a minute.”

Her tears fall on her lemon meringue. Jon presses a kiss to her knuckles and does his best to comfort her. When Sam comes back to check on them, Jon asks for two takeaway boxes.

It’s two o’clock in the morning when they leave the Castle Black Cafe. Sansa’s eyes are bloodshot and her throat is dry. She shivers when they get in the freezing car, and Jon drapes his flannel jacket over her shoulders and finds a pair of thick wool socks for her to slip on her feet.

His apartment is cold (he explains that he turns down the heat to save money), and is surprisingly tidy. Ghost, the pale white Shiba Inu, is asleep on the sofa. An array of papers are spread across the coffee table, with Jon’s careful calculations printed across them. There are three framed items on his wall. The first is his internship offer for NASA, the second is a picture of him when he was three, all smiles as he rode on his mother’s shoulders at a carnival, and the third is a picture of him, Robb, and Sansa. They’re in the middle of laughing wholeheartedly, sitting around a campfire on a summer night.

“I’ve got some salad in the fridge if you’re still hungry. Do you want to watch TV? I’ve got HBO. Robb told me about a new series that’s pretty good. There are some board games in my room, too. And if you want to sleep, my room’s just over there-”

“No, thanks,” she says. Of course she’s tired to the bone and her ribs hurt from crying, but she knows that being left alone to her thoughts will only make matters worse.

“Tell me what you need. Anything at all.”

She pulls out her phone and scrolls through her music. Mr. Brightside is the first on her favorites playlist. Sansa hits play and sets it down on the coffee table.

“They played it at the party while I was outside waiting for you… I didn’t get to dance, and it’s my favorite song,” she explains.

He opens his arms, and she falls into them without question. Sansa leans against him and sighs. Jon smells like mint and campfire smoke, which is her new favorite combination. The loneliness is beginning to melt away.

“You know, I always thought you’d be more of a Wonderwall person,” he says. She laughs for the first real time in ages.

“Thank you,” Sansa whispers. He kisses the top of her head and murmurs  _always, love_ into her hair.

_As long as she has him, she’ll be just fine._


	2. and i've been doing just fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon run errands. She discovers something from Sam which changes everything.

Sansa wakes up to the smell of breakfast. She’s wrapped up in Jon’s NASA sweatshirt and his black sweatpants. The other side of the bed is still warm from where Ghost had slept the night before. Outside the window are grey clouds. She can see a few people hanging wreaths on telephone poles for the holidays.

Suddenly, a sharp pain rolls through her abdomen.  _Motherfucker._  As if her life hadn’t been terrible enough, now she’s got cramps to deal with.

Her clutch is on Jon’s nightstand, next to his copy of  _Travels with Charley_. She grabs it and (thank god) finds a spare tampon. There’s a small bathroom attached to Jon’s room, and she quietly slips inside.

There are several notifications on her phone. Margaery, Robb, Arya, and Uncle Benjen have all texted. Sansa dials Arya’s number and waits. It rings three times before her sister picks up.

_“Where the fuck are you? What the hell happened? Are you okay?”_

“I’m okay, I think,” whispers Sansa, “I’m at Jon’s apartment.”

_“Why are you at Jon’s? And why are you whispering?”_

“I don’t want him to hear me, so shush. Robb couldn’t drive me home last night, so Jon came by and I stayed with him for the night.” She examines her face in the mirror. There are faint dark circles under her eyes, and strands of her hair are coming loose from her braid.

_“Well, why couldn’t Jon drive you home?”_

“Because I don’t want to go home!” she hisses. “Look, I broke things off with Joffrey and now I’m not sure what I’m doing. I think I’m going to try a change of pace. Jon has a spare room-”

_“Wait, are you and Jon-”_

“No, of course not! Arya, please listen to me. I just need some time to think about things. I’m really sorry if I made you worry, and please tell Uncle Benjen that I’m okay. It’s just…” she bites off a fresh wave of tears.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the call.  _“Fine. You need to take care of yourself, though. I’m gonna throw together some of your stuff, tell Jon to come by and pick it up. I’m here for you, big sister.”_

“Love you, Arya.”

 _“Ugh, love you too.”_  The call ends. Sansa wipes her eyes and takes several deep breaths before leaving the bathroom and joining Jon in the kitchen. He’s in a plain grey t-shirt and jeans, with his glasses perched on his nose and his curly hair messily pushed back.

“Breakfast smells good,” she says. He slides her a plate of chocolate chip pancakes as she takes a place at the small square table.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pours two glasses of orange juice and sits across from her.

“Yeah, Ghost kept me company.” She bites into the pancakes and nearly moans. They’re sweet, fluffy, and delicious.

“I was gonna go down to the store today and pick up some groceries and stuff. Do you want to come? You can choose sheets and blankets for your room,” Jon offers. She nods.

“Yeah, I need some stuff too.”

“Great. I’ll find some nicer clothes for you. You probably don’t want to be walking around in my shitty pajamas.” Sansa swallows quickly.

“Could I keep the sweatshirt for now?” She winces at the awkward phrasing. “It’s just… the weather is really cold and I’d like to have something warm…”

Jon smiles and squeezes her hand. “Of course. I’ll find you some jeans and shoes though.”

He leaves her to finish her breakfast. Ghost paces through the kitchen, stopping to nuzzle Sansa’s knee. She rubs behind his ear, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth with happiness.

Jon finds a pair of jeans for her, which fit surprisingly well. Old converse with tissues stuffed in the toe complete the outfit. They hop in his truck and turn down the road to the local supermarket.

“I usually don’t cook a lot, so just let me know what you like to eat,” he says as they push the noisy wire cart through the produce section.

“With those pancakes like those? You could open your own restaurant,” she says. Jon blushes and picks out a carton of blueberries. He makes sure to buy a bag of lemons when he thinks she isn’t looking.

The selection of home decor is rather limited, so Sansa picks out simple dark blue sheets and a quilt to match. She throws in a pack of toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste, shampoo, and conditioner as well. Even if Arya is gathering her things together, it never hurts to be safe.

“You need anything else?” asks Jon. Sansa bites her lip and quickly snags a pack of razors, shaving cream, and a box of tampons off of the shelf.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“Don’t be. I’ve never bought tampons for a girl before. It’s an honor,” he says with a wink. “You wanna run back to the frozen food aisle? They’ve got a buy-one-get-one-free for ice cream.”

She takes the excuse to hide her flushed face and scurries back to the corner of the store. While she’s there, she texts Margaery-  _Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll call you soon._  Of course it won’t be enough for her. Margaery will probably text back with a whole paragraph. Sansa picks out a tub of chocolate and a tub of cookies and cream. When she comes back, Jon is halfway through checkout.

“I’m gonna have to fight you for the cookies and cream,” he says, grinning and collecting their bags. They stuff the groceries in the small backseat of the truck. Jon suggests getting dinner from the Castle Black Cafe, on account of his inability to cook anything besides breakfast food, and Sansa acquiesces.

When they arrive, Sam is behind the counter. He waves to them with a broad smile on his face.

“Hey, Sam. Can we get dinner to go?”

“Sure! What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a burger and fries with a vanilla milkshake. Sansa?”

“The same, please.”

“I’ll have it right out for you.” Sam goes back to the kitchen with a cheerful bounce in his step.

Jon squeezes her shoulder. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, will you be okay for a minute?”

“Yeah,” she says.

Sam brings the food out in record time, and Sansa wonders if he might possess superpowers. He asks her about her plans for the holidays and talks about his upcoming vacation with his girlfriend, Gilly.

“Hey, Sam, can I ask you something?” she says, remembering something from their visit to the diner last night.

“Of course!”

“When Jon and I came in last night, you said that you’d heard a lot about me. I was just wondering what that meant… if it meant anything at all.”

“Oh, well…” Sam blushes, clearly thinking fast. “Jon thinks very highly of you- that is, he’s been worried about you lately. I’m sure his intentions are good.”

Sansa tries to process what she’s hearing. Having intentions could mean many different things. Her heart is full of trepidation, confusion, and (strangely enough) excitement.

 _Why does she feel so full of hope for someone who doesn’t love her?_  And all of a sudden, her mind has thrown love back into the messy equation of her life. Her nails dig into her palms, and she tries to think of anything else.

“Sans, you ready to go?” She hadn’t noticed Jon come back, or put his hand on her wrist. Sucking in a sharp breath, she pulls her hand away to carry their takeaway boxes.

“Can you drive by my house?” she asks. “ I need to pick some stuff up.”

“Sure.” Once they’re back on the road, they turn down her street. “Oh, I was wondering if you need me to drive you in the mornings. You’re still working at the boutique?”

“It’s not that far, I can walk. Besides, you’ve got your internship.”

“I’ve got a break for the next few weeks, through the holidays. If you’ve got some time off, we could go do something, or just hang out,” Jon suggests.

“That sounds nice,” she says without smiling. “I’ll see if I can change my schedule around.”

He pulls up at her driveway. Arya is waiting on the porch with a large cardboard box in her arms.

“Sansa, I wanted to-”

“This will only take a minute,” she says, slamming the door as she hops out of the truck. Right now, she can’t deal with Jon’s never-ending concern.

Arya walks up to her with an eyebrow raised. That’s never good.

“I got some clothes and your laptop and your sewing shit, so I think that’s mostly everything. Your wallet’s in there too. I might’ve borrowed ten dollars for pizza, so remind me to pay you back sometime,” she says.

“Thank you, Arya.” Sansa reaches for the box, but Arya shifts backwards. “Is there anything going on that I should know about?”

“I forgot to tell you, Uncle Benjen’s got a business trip so he’ll be away for the holidays. Robb’s going to spend Christmas with Margaery, and Bran and Rickon are going skiing with the Reeds. I’m probably gonna crash at Gendry’s place. Are you gonna be okay with Jon?”

“Huh?” The thought of spending Christmas apart from her siblings is unfathomable. “I mean, yeah. It’ll be fine.”

Of course, that fails with Arya’s uncanny bullshit detector. “Sansa, look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay.”

Her grip on the box is as strong as iron. It’s clear that Sansa’s going nowhere without telling the truth.

“I don’t know,” she mutters. “I’m trying to be okay.”

“You know I’d beat anyone up for you, right? Even Jon?”

Sansa laughs, even though her heart feels heavy. “Yeah. Thanks, Arya.”

She takes the box and sets it in the backseat of the truck, then takes her place in the passenger seat. If she hadn’t cried her eyes out the night before, she’d be sobbing again.

Jon’s hand curls around hers, and their fingers lock together in a pattern that despite herself, she’s starting to love.

“Can we go home?” she mutters. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Some things are better left unsaid.

She doesn’t bother to linger on the fact that her new definition of home is Jon Snow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this might be a bad chapter (sorry) but I promise there will be better ones ahead! I have a lot of hope for this and as long as I'm motivated I might actually fucking finish it! Hell yeah!  
> Part 3 is coming soon!


	3. gotta gotta be down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds some gifts and spends some quality time with Jon, even though things get a bit hard between them.

“I’m heading home for today. See you tomorrow, Margie.”

Sansa gathers her supplies into her sewing basket. Her latest project, a wedding dress, has taken all her time and energy for the day. The lace overlay will have to be hand sewn at home if she has any hopes of finishing it on time.

“Oh! Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” says Margaery, setting down her scissors. Sansa’s heart sinks.

“Are you… are you _firing_  me?”

“What? Fuck, no. I wanted to offer you some vacation time. Do you really think I’d fire you? You’re the only one who actually does any sort of work here.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, but I can’t really afford to take off. With the holidays coming up and everything-”

“Sansa, you’re forgetting an important fact. My family is rich. Now, I want you to take these next four weeks off and relax. Help yourself to a chunk of that man meat you’re living with. Whatever floats your boat, girlfriend. As long as you get that dress finished by the time you get back, you’ll be fine. Alright?”

“Alright,” says Sansa, grinning. “And Jon is  _not_ man meat.”

“Oh, honey, are you kidding me? If I weren’t dating Robb, I’d climb that boy like a tree. You better board the ship before it sails, so to speak,” Margaery says, digging through her wallet. “Is two hundred good for now? I can always send you more.” Sansa nods and tucks the bills in her purse.

“I feel like this isn’t how money works.”

“Whatever. I’m lazy and tired. Let me know everything that happens between you and the sexy lumberjack.”

Sansa pulls on her coat and leaves the boutique. A thin layer of snowflakes coats the streets and sidewalks. There have been flurries all week, but no big snow storms yet.

There’s a bookstore at the corner of the street, which she passes every day on her way to and from work. Sansa pulls the door open and steps inside. It smells like coffee and paper. The White Christmas soundtrack is playing softly from the radio.

She finds the aisle labelled ‘science and space’. There are hundreds of titles to choose from. Sansa runs her fingers across the spines of the books before she comes to one that catches her eye.  _Astrophysics for People in a Hurry._  She picks it off of the shelf, reads a few pages, and closes it in satisfaction.

She’s about to go to checkout when she sees a poster hanging on the side of a shelf. It’s a black and white picture of an astronaut, with the caption ‘I need some space’. It’s possibly the most Jon Snow thing she’s ever seen, and it’s only ten dollars. She buys it without a second thought.

When she opens the door to the apartment, she’s greeted with a strange scene.

“Hey, how was work?” asks Jon. He’s in the process of hanging silver baubles on a large Christmas tree. A science documentary is playing on the TV, and a delicious smell is coming from the oven. Ghost barks and rushes to nuzzle Sansa’s legs.

“It was fine. Jon, how did you get that tree in here?” She shuts the door and kneels down to rub Ghost’s belly.

“Tormund helped. He also took a look at the heaters. Apparently, they need to be replaced. I’ll probably go out to the hardware store tomorrow.”

Sansa remembers the book and poster, and tries to move to her room inconspicuously. She hides the gifts under her bed. Her feet and back are aching from a long day, so she changes into her pajamas and takes her sewing kit out to the couch.

“Margaery gave me the next few weeks off,” she says, threading a needle with white string. “I’m free for anything, I guess.”

“Really?” Jon’s face lights up with a smile. “I mean, I’ve got some ideas. There’s a Christmas market down the street. Sam told me that there’s a stand that sells little lemon pastries.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she says. For some reason, the fact that Jon knows she likes lemons means a great deal to her.

But it isn’t just lemons. He’s memorized her favorite recipes so he can cook supper every night. He’s learned sewing terminology so he can ask about her work. He knows which channels her favorite shows are on, he knows what movies make her cry, and he knows that she likes her tea with half a spoonful of sugar.

And Sansa… she knows that Jon takes Ghost on a walk every morning at seven and every evening at six. She knows that he reads for an hour before going to bed, she knows that he always watches Nightly News, she knows that he listens to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture when he needs to think, and he has a notebook full of the names of stars and constellations that he likes.

Sansa isn’t sure if she’s ready to be loved, but Jon makes her feel like she deserves more from life, and that isn’t so terrible.

They have lemon chicken piccata for dinner and cookies for dessert, while watching more documentaries on Netflix. Sansa works on the lace and Jon talks about whatever kind of science the TV is illustrating.

“See, the thing about black holes is that we automatically assume that we’ll never be able to understand them, or that we’ll never possess the technology to prove or disprove any theories- and there are _plenty_ of theories,” he says, biting into a cookie. “But a hundred years ago, nobody would’ve thought that we’d be able to reach the moon. The sky was literally the limit. So if we can put people on the moon and send machines to planets that are millions of miles away, who’s to say that we won’t understand black holes someday?”

“This is terrifying,” says Sansa. A German professor in the documentary is describing how a human would be squashed into different dimensions if they entered a black hole. She’s always been afraid of the apocalyptic sci-fi movies that Robb, Arya, and Jon wanted to watch all the time when they were growing up.

“Most of this is probably speculative,” says Jon, trying his best to comfort her. “No one actually knows what a black hole is like because they’re so far away.”

“Don’t you want to know?” she asks.

“Sometimes, I guess. But there are some things that just aren’t meant to be known, and I’m okay with that. Everything we know and love is right here on earth,” he says, reaching over to join their fingers.

Sansa must have a look of wonder on her face, because Jon frowns and asks, “What is it?”

“Nothing. You just… that was kind of beautiful,” she says.

“Thank you.” Jon is blushing faintly. Unable to think of something else to say that wouldn’t completely embarrass her, Sansa packs up her sewing.

“I’m going to get some sleep. Good night.”

“Good night, Sansa.”

Once she’s in the safety of her room, she buries her face in a pillow and groans.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’s been living with Jon for almost two weeks, and she’s already infatuated with him._ When she finally falls asleep, her dreams are dark and hazy.

Sansa wakes in the middle of the night. The room is freezing cold, even with five layers of blankets on top of her. Ghost is nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” she mutters, sliding out of bed. The familiar hum of the heater is gone. She kicks it once, then again, before giving up. It’s far too cold for her to go back to sleep. Sansa leaves her room and knocks on Jon’s door.

“Come in?”

She enters the room slowly. Jon is sitting in his bed with an array of papers scattered around him. There’s an old astronomy textbook in his hands, and his phone is playing Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

“The heater broke. My room’s a freezer right now,” she says. “I don’t want to bother you, but could I stay here for tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind sharing.”  _Well, that was forward._

Jon gulps and quickly clears away his papers. Sansa slides under his soft sheets and curls up. He turns off his music and his lamp. The string of LED lights that hangs above the window provides a dim, warm glow.

She’s still shivering after a few minutes, and Jon notices. She feels him press the back of his hand against her arm.

“Sansa, you’re fucking  _freezing,”_  he mutters.

“I’m just a little cold,” she says, which is a straight up lie. If she were an ocean, she could kill Leonardo DiCaprio in two minutes flat.

“Okay, c’mere.”

He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Sansa can smell pine and smoke on him. The coarse hair of his beard tickles her forehead, sending electricity through her veins. She prays that he can’t feel her heart beating like a drum in her ribcage.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she whispers.  _Very okay._

They fall asleep like that, and Sansa can’t remember ever getting such a good night’s sleep. She wants to spend forever in his arms.

When she wakes up in the morning, she’s facing away from him but still wrapped in his embrace. His leg is awkwardly pressed against her back. She tries to turn away, but he just shifts back against her.

“Jon, can you move your knee?”

“Hmm… what?”

“Your knee. It’s right against my back.”

“I- oh. Um… I’m gonna go make breakfast.”

Sansa frowns and sits up, but he’s already left the room. For a minute, she’s convinced that she’s overstepped a line, and this is the end of everything between her and Jon. However, the awkward realization soon sets in.

 _Fuck._ That definitely wasn’t his knee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this terrible? Sorry! The next chapter is gonna be riveting! And if you know the song, you know what's coming up! Let me know your feelings!


	4. because i want it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A line is crossed.

_ “Wow.” _

“I know! I feel so terrible about it, because he just ran away. And now he’s making waffles and I’m crying in my bedroom again- oh, I’m so fucked, Margaery!”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line. Sansa is huddled up in her cold-as-ice bedroom, clutching her phone and trying desperately not to bawl.

_ “So, like… how big was it?” _

“Not helping!”

_ “Hey, I’m just wondering! So, did you guys get into a little early morning hanky panky?” _

Sansa groans. “No. I thought it was his knee and I asked him to move his leg. That’s how he realized.”

Another big pause. She can practically feel her best friend rolling her eyes into a different dimension. Margaery has always been a sassy-but-demure sex goddess kind of person.

_ “Sansa. Oh. My. God. You sweet, innocent little virgin-” _

“I’m not a virgin!”

_ “Getting handsy with Podrick Payne at senior prom doesn’t count.” _

“Okay, seriously, I don’t know what to do. I need your wise advice.”

_ “Listen. Jon obviously wants you, and not just in a sex way. He’s gone out of his way to make you happy. Everything he does is centered around you- not like he’s obsessed with you, but he cares, he really does. You’d be an idiot not to give him a chance. Just see where it goes! If his oral sex game is anything like Robb’s, you’re in for a treat.” _

“Ew! Margaery!”

_ “Sorry, sorry. But in all seriousness… go get him, tiger.” _

Sansa can’t help but smile. “Bye, Margie.”

_ “Bye, Sans.” _

She hangs up and sighs, running a hand through her wavy hair.  _ Today will be fine,  _ she tells herself,  _ and I will not make a fool of myself again. I’m going to completely forget that Jon Snow pressed his raging boner against my ass this morning. _

She walks into the kitchen, already smelling pancakes. Jon is listening to classical music on the radio, humming along to a beautiful violin concerto. He looks up and notices her standing quietly by the table.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Tea?”

“Yes, please.” Sansa takes a seat. Ghost is napping underneath the table, and she brushes her toes against his belly. Outside, there are light flurries dusting the fire escape with snowflakes. The date is December seventeenth, as shown under a picture of the Ursids meteor shower on Jon’s space calendar, which is attached to the fridge.

Jon sets a mug of lemon tea in front of her. “I already added the sugar.”

“Thank you, Jon.” 

He sits next to her and sets down a plate of blueberry pancakes. “I mixed some lemon zest in with the batter. Let me know if you like it.”

_ There it is again,  _ she thinks. It’s that eagerness to please, to be kind, to make her feel good- it’s his entire goddamn character motivation. He’s handsome, chivalrous, and intelligent. He’s basically Prince Charming, which makes Sansa a ginger Cinderella.  _ She’s not a Cinderella at all,  _ she thinks, until she remembers that the whole reason she’s living with Jon is because she escaped a fancy event with no shoes.  _ Well, life truly does imitate art. _

The elephant in the room is killing her, so she finishes chewing and tries to muster all the courage in her body.

“I wanted to thank you for letting me stay with you last night,” she says. “I really appreciate it. You’ve been so sweet.”

His entire face lights up with a mix of relief and pride. “Really, it was no trouble. I’m happy to help. If the heater isn't working tonight, you’re welcome to share with me again.”

He immediately bites his tongue, and Sansa can tell that he’s already regretting his words. It’s the unspoken push-and-pull between them that can’t be shaken. A cautious step over the line that separates ‘friends’ from ‘something more’ is always met with a quick step backwards.

“I’d like that,” she says, disregarding the line and biting into another pancake.

“Would you want to visit the Christmas market today?” Jon asks. 

“Absolutely.” She finishes her breakfast and goes to her room to change into a cream colored sweater and jeans. She fusses with her hair for longer than usual, and finally settles on leaving it loose. Ghost paces around her feet while she gets ready, nuzzling her ankles like he’s more of a kitten than a bulky shiba inu.

They drive downtown to the Glass Gardens Park, where several rows of tents have been set up. Vendors are selling everything from hot chocolate and candy to glass decorations and candles. The smell of evergreens and mulled cider fills her with a warm, comforting sensation. A sound system is playing White Christmas. 

“Sansa, look at this,” says Jon. He’s by an artisan jewelry stand, pointing to a simple silver ring with a small blue jewel set in the center.

“That’s beautiful,” she says. “Sapphire is my birthstone.”

“I bet it’d look pretty on you,” he mutters before moving on quickly. She blushes and follows at his side.

They spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around the market, browsing through everything from ornaments to pottery to hand woven rugs. She buys a jar of mint tea for Bran, a leather bound journal for Rickon, a pocketknife for Arya, a ceramic coffee mug for Robb, and a lavender candle for Margaery. At one of the vendors tents, Jon finds a carved hedgehog ornament that he buys immediately, because ‘it’s just too damn cute not to’.

By the time they’ve finished shopping, it’s dark outside. Strings of multicolored lights hang from leafless trees, casting a warm glow over their faces. They climb back in the truck, talking about some sort of discovery Jon’s been studying for his NASA internship.

When he turns on the radio, classic Christmas music plays softly through the speakers. It feels oddly picturesque, or poetic in some way.

“Let’s go for drinks,” she says out of the blue. “Do you know any good places?”

“There’s a pub right down the street. I’ve got friends who work there.”

“Perfect.”

Jon pulls over and parks next to a brightly lit pub, apparently called ‘Beyond the Wall’. Once they’re inside, the smell of peppermint and cinnamon hits her like a brick. The bar is full, so they take a booth in the corner. Jon orders a whiskey on the rocks and Sansa orders a spiked hot chocolate in honor of the season. The light is dim, but the music is loud, and it just happens to be her favorite song in the entire world.

_“...and I’ve been doing just fine,”_  she sings quietly, tapping along on the table.

“Here you go. This one’s on the house, Snow.” A redheaded woman with light blue eyes brings them their drinks.   


“Thanks, Ygritte,” says Jon.

“No problem. Tormund sends his best wishes.” Ygritte gestures to an equally ginger man behind the bar, who points finger guns at them. 

Sansa takes a sip of her drink. “Best wishes?”

“They try to play wingman when I come here on dates.” Jon swirls his whiskey in its thin glass. Sansa’s heart rises to her throat.

“This is a date?” she asks, sounding more hopeful than she had meant to. 

“I’d like it to be,” he says.

Their fingers are barely brushing on the table, and Sansa isn’t sure if she wants to look him in the eye. He has a way of looking at her like she’s a lake in the middle of a desert, or like she’s the most captivating, priceless piece of art at a museum. It’s the way any girl wants to be looked at, and it makes her melt every time.

A familiar voice shakes her out of the blissful stupor.  _ Oh. Fucking. No. _

“Look who it is! Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. How are you? I heard you were sleeping around. Is this your new sugar daddy?”

She winces. “Joffrey, please leave me alone, you’re drunk and-”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, rolling his eyes. His ugly, weasel-like face twists in a sneer as he leans over their table.

“I’m gonna give you ten seconds to apologize and back the fuck away,” says Jon. The corner of his eye twitches just slightly, but enough for her to know that he’s barely containing his rage.

“Ooh, look at Prince Charming! Damn, Sansa, you must’ve blown him pretty good to get the princess treatment.”

Jon’s fist slams against Joffrey’s jaw, and he has him pinned against the wall in seconds, perfectly in time with the music. Sansa isn’t sure if she should pull him away, cheer him on, or sing along. 

“Fuck him up, Jonny boy!” says Tormund. He and Ygritte are clapping, as if they were watching a football game. The rest of the people in the pub look on with wide eyes.

“Apologize,” he growls, “and get out.”

“Jesus  _ fuck!  _ Are you kidding me?" Joffrey chokes out.

“Jon, let him go!” Sansa says. He immediately releases Joffrey, who shrinks away, still muttering insults.

“Do you think he’ll call the cops?” says Sansa.

“I really don’t feel like finding out. Run.”

He grabs her hand and they race out the door, with Ygritte and Tormund still cheering them on. There’s at least three inches of snow on the ground, but they stumble through it and hop into the old truck as fast as they can. Jon pulls away from the pub, nearly running over a stop sign in the process.

“Jon, that was… that was…”

“Look, Sansa, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That was  _ fun,  _ Jon! I’ve never felt better! God, this is amazing!”

Sansa is laughing in delight, running a hand through her hair and beaming at him with bright eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes! I feel so  _ alive,  _ it’s crazy. I love this so much. I love messing around and being stupid and being reckless. I love the way it feels, Jon. I love the way you make me feel. I love  _ you.” _

Just saying it makes her feel even better. She loves Jon because he helped her love herself. He’s funny and sweet and selfless, and she wishes she could find the words to tell him just how much he means to her.

While he’s staring at her, he nearly swerves into the sidewalk, and Sansa yelps in surprise.

“Fuck, sorry!” he says. “I love you, too! God, I love you so fucking much. I’m not trying to kill you, I swear.”

They take one look at each other and burst out laughing. By the time their giggles fade, Sansa knows for sure that her heart belongs completely to him.

“Home?” he asks, and she knows that there are plenty of things to be implied with that one-word question.

“Home,” she says.

And their hands join in perfect harmony, because Jon Snow and Sansa Stark are hopelessly in love and that’s the way it should always be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy! y'all know the song! y'all know what comes next!  
> let me know all your feelings. visit me on tumblr @wintermellons for updates. i've been slightly inactive lately because i've got a friend visiting from germany, and this chapter was a bit rushed as well, but i hope to come up with more output soon.  
> part five is coming soon!


	5. it started out with a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss leads to something more.

Sansa is starting to know exactly what a person looks like when they want to kiss someone, and it’s the exact same way Jon is looking at her as they drive down the dark, wintry road.

They stay silent when they leave the old truck in the parking lot and make their way up to the apartment, but their hands are still interlocked.

_He’s going to kiss her in the elevator_ , she thinks, but as the doors open, they find their neighbor already inside.

“Hello, there!” says Mr. Manderly. He’s dressed like Santa Claus, and is holding a potted plant for some reason.

“Oh, hi, Wyman,” says Jon. “Were you at the Christmas market?”

“No, the memorial hospital needed a Santa this year and my daughter just had her baby there, so I volunteered.”

“That’s so sweet,” says Sansa. “What kind of plant do you have?”

“Japanese peace lily. It’s for my wife,” Mr. Manderly says with a smile. The elevator dings, and Jon and Sansa make their way to their apartment.

Her heart is beating out a frenzied cadence. Jon fishes for his keys and unlocks the door. She steps inside and slips off her shoes, and he follows her in.

The door clicks shut.

The lights flicker on.

And then Jon presses her against the wall and seals their lips together. He still tastes like whiskey, and she melts into his arms. The kiss is long, soft, and sweet, and the way he tangles his fingers through her wavy red hair drives her crazy.

“I love you,” he whispers, “I really do.”

“I love you, too.”

They just breathe for a while, with their foreheads pressed together. His thumb caresses her cheek delicately. Sansa can’t seem think straight. The only thing she can focus on is her overwhelming love for him.

“Kiss me again,” she says, and he does. This time is different. His teeth catch on her bottom lip and pull just slightly, enough to draw a deep moan from her throat. The desire for him burns like wildfire.

“I want you,” he whispers carefully, and she knows that he’s giving her a choice.

“You have me.”

They stumble towards his bedroom between kisses. Ghost is on the bed, but quickly patters away as if he completely understands the situation.

“Door open or closed?”

“Closed.”

“Lights on or off?”

“Off.”

“Music?”

“What?”

He holds up a few CDs. Some have recognizable covers, and others have titles scrawled in black sharpie. She shrugs.

“Surprise me.”

He picks one out and puts it in his CD player. She recognizes it immediately.

“Really? The Interstellar soundtrack?” she says, biting back her laughter. He shrugs, with a bashful grin on his face.

“Gotta set the mood, right?”

“God, you’re such a dork,” she says, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. He quickly disposes of the black t-shirt, and Sansa has to admit that Margaery was absolutely right. Jon Snow certainly is a beautiful piece of man meat.

He tugs on her sweater, and she pulls it over her head. She hadn’t put much effort into dressing that morning, and had settled for a black lacy bra that she had borrowed from Margaery and never bothered to return.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, stroking her skin with his fingertips. She nods, and he slowly unhooks her bra. The straps slip off her shoulders, leaving her bare breasts exposed to him.

Sansa has never been truly self-conscious, but she’s also never been topless in front of someone before. She bites her lip and tries to hide her face, but Jon tips her chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

“Hey. Look at me,” he says. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect. You have no idea what you do to me, Sansa. No idea how much I want you, how much I  _need_  you. You’re more beautiful than every single star in the sky, and I’m so in love with you.”

_God, she’s so in love with him too._  She’s in love with everything about him, from his dorky obsession with space to his scruffy beard to his big brown puppy dog eyes. Her heart is his, his heart is hers, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“That was really poetic,” she says, blinking away tears. “I think you should write that down.”

He smiles and kisses her again. The backs of her knees are pressed against the mattress, and she gently lays down, sliding back to rest her head against the pillows. Jon’s thumb brushes against her breasts, and he ducks his head to swirl his tongue around a rosy nipple.

_“Oh,”_  she breathes. His hands work her jeans off of her legs.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters against her lips. “Can I taste you, love?”

“Please,” she groans. With hungry precision, Jon moves down her body, creating a trail of hot kisses against her skin. Her chest rises and falls quickly, as she struggles to contain herself. Every light touch sends her reeling.

“Can I take these off?” he asks. His fingers pull at the edge of her plain black panties.

“Yes,” she says in a high pitched whimper. He rolls the thin fabric down her legs and tosses it onto the floor.

“God, Sansa, you’re so wet for me,” says Jon. His warm breath heats the soft skin between her thighs, and she can feel the coarse hairs of his beard.

“Yeah, well I-  _fuck!”_

She practically loses the ability to speak when she feels Jon’s tongue on her. He’s gentle and rough at the same time, licking and sucking in random patterns. He grazes her clit, and she gasps as if she’s drowning.

“Oh god,  _yes.”_  She grasps his dark, curly mane of hair to keep him anchored against her.

_“Mmm,_ Sansa, you’re so fucking perfect,” Jon hums. The vibrations send a wave of pure pleasure crashing down around her.

“Jon, please, Jon…”

“Come for me, Sansa. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

She comes undone, still gripping his head, sighing in blissful satisfaction as Jon coaxes her through her orgasm. There are stars behind her eyelids, and her hands are shaking.

“Holy shit,” she says, “that was incredible.”

He grins against her thighs. “Would it be wrong to ask for a high five?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

She pauses, and then offers her hand for the most hilarious high five of her entire life. Jon bursts out laughing, and peppers kisses against her stomach.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes. Please. I want you inside me,” she begs. He reaches over and opens the drawer in his nightstand. There’s a box of condoms stashed in the back.

“Do you like the music? I can change it,” he says as he rids himself of his jeans and boxers.

“No, I like it. It’s beautiful.” She stretches her arms and sighs, resting against his pillows. “I think it’s funny, actually. You’re the space geek who loves looking at the stars, and here you are, making me _see_  stars.”

Jon rejoins her in bed, stealing a kiss. “Will you start calling me ‘starman’?”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

He props himself up on his forearms. Sansa can feel her heart racing in anticipation. The warm ache between her legs is starting to burn.

“Can you- can you just go slow? Please?”

“If you want to stop at any time, tell me,” he says, full of genuine concern.

“I love you,” she says, “but I need you to shut up and fuck me.”

He mutters  _Jesus Christ_  under his breath and, with frustrating steadiness, eases himself into her. Her fingernails dig into his back, and he presses chaste kisses to the edge of her mouth.

“Good?”

“Very good. More,” Sansa says. Jon begins to quicken his movements, making sure to measure her reactions.

_“God,_  Sansa, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters, and her eyelids flutter as she tries to process every single sensation.

“Faster,” she says, and he obliges, increasing his pace until they’re both sweaty and out of breath. Her hips rise to meet his with every thrust. Their kisses grow more heated and passionate. Jon reaches down and strokes her clit, and she cries out as she reaches her peak for the second time. He comes not long after, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear

“I’m so in love with you,” he says. “God, you have no idea. You’re worth the entire world to me.”

“I bet you say that to every girl who offers to call you ‘starman’,” she teases, and he shakes his head with a tired quirk of his lips.

“No, Sans, I mean it. I’m not just saying it because we just had sex. I really do love you. But the starman thing would be an added bonus.”

She smiles, closing her eyes to savor the moment. Jon throws away the used condom and pulls her against his chest. The snow is falling outside, but next to him, she feels warm and safe. He plays with a few strands of her hair as they lie there, and compares her eyes to constellations.

Sansa sighs as she begins to drift off to sleep.

“I love you, starman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was super fun! And hey, it's the first time I've written a sex scene, so there ya go! I did throw in a Hot Fuzz reference, because I watched it last night and it's a fucking good movie.  
> Anyways, I hope this is okay! Leave a comment, tell me all your feelings. I love hearing from you groovy people.


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